


The Fratt Cat

by titC



Series: Didn't See It Coming [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Matt's blind jokes, Mostly Fluff, Not talking about things, no animals were harmed, no promises for Our Human Heroes ;-), socks mention, some explosions and stitches as per usual, what it says on the tin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-25 19:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Fratt get a cat.Feels and explosions ensue.





	The Fratt Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Big Thanks to [PixelByPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel) for the beta work ♥

It all started with a message from Karen.

It was a short video of a shoe box with holes punched in it and pitiful mews coming from it, Red throwing a hissy fit, and Nelson giggling at the whole scene.

_WTF?_ Frank sent back. He was still finishing his shift at the gun range and didn’t check his phone again until he was out.

Karen had replied with a picture of the half-open box. In it, curled up in a corner, was an orange fluffball with freaky, cloudy blue eyes.

_Still collecting strays?_ Of course Karen wouldn’t be able to resist one like that.

_Only cute ones_. She added another photo of the cat, on its back and paws up, its eyes in full view. _Love it, but can’t keep it. Allergic._

_Blind? _It had to be, with those eyes.

_Maybe? Enjoy your housewarming gift!_

Gift? What gift? What housewarming? _WHAT?_

Karen, of course, never answered.

So Frank resorted to calling Red, who only deigned to pick up his phone after about five tries. (_Five_.) That wasn’t much more enlightening; the conversation on Red’s end was mostly hisses (source: undetermined), some scratching (claws on cardboard? nails on Braille documents?), and frantic whispers along the line of “Frank, what do I do!? Do you know anything about cats? Frank!!” All in all, nothing useful.

Clearly, there was only one thing left to do: go to the Nelson, Murdock, & Page offices to watch the drama unfold. But before that, and because Frank had been trained a Marine and knew better than to dive unprepared into any new situation, he went to a pet store to buy a little bit of kitten-appropriate food plus whatever the clerk said was absolutely necessary.

Thus armed, Frank set up the litter box under the bench in the corridor, shrugged at the couch that was probably doomed anyway, and left the apartment again. However big an act Murdock had put up, they’d come back with the cat. He had a soft spot the size of Canada for the underdog – or the undercat, as the case may be. Anyway, it wasn’t like Karen would let them off the hook.

They were coming home with it.

* * *

Both Fogs and Karen were all together on a giant conspiracy against Matt. How could Karen even think a terrified stray cat would be happy living in his apartment? How could she figure he or Frank would know what to do with an animal? And Foggy – Foggy, who’d been through thick and thin with him, who’d known Matt for so many years… how could _Foggy_ – smart, sensible Foggy – believe any of this was a good idea?

The kitten, because it was of course a _baby_, alternated between sad squeaking and high-pitched mewling all morning, and Karen refused to put the box elsewhere than in Matt’s office. Matt tried to steal her desk but she kicked him back to his then left to find cardboard, waste paper and duct-tape so she could build a… fort? wall? dollhouse? _something_, in a corner of his own office.

“This way she can be out of the box for the day before you take her home with you.”

“I’m not taking it home.”

“Of course you are; you’re not going to abandon her, are you?”

“Why don’t you give it to Foggy?”

“Marci said no!” Fogs hollered from his own desk.

“_I_ can’t take care of a cat!”

“Yes, you can.”

“Why should it be in my office today, anyway?”

“Because she’s your cat. You need to get used to each other.” Karen’s level voice was grating; it made Matt feel like he was an unreasonable child she was talking down to.

He was not unreasonable; he was _concerned_. The kitten was terrified, its heartbeat too fast to be good; and it was… tiny. Karen put the open box in his hands while she was tearing and cutting and taping and stapling and making other mysterious, noisy things and he stood there like an idiot, holding it as gingerly as he would nitroglycerin.

Finally, when she was done, Karen took it from his hands and set on his desk.

“Come on, touch her.”

“No.”

“She’s really very soft.”

“No.”

“Hold out your hand, Matt.”

Foggy’s chair scraped on the floor and he stomped in. “Oh my God, Matt; it’s just a kitten! A really fluffy kitten! She’s not going to attack you!”

“It’s terrified of me! It’s going to have a heart attack if I touch it!”

“How do you know she’s terrified of _you_, specifically?” Foggy stuck a hand in the box. “Aw, Matty, come here. She’s hanging on my hand, I swear I’ve never seen anything so cute.” Matt took a breath but Fogs cut him off. “No blind joke, Murdock.”

Fine. He touched the cat with the tip of a tentative finger. “There.” The tiny, pointy, _stabby_ beast latched onto Matt before he could take it away. “What’s that noise?”

“She’s purring. Well, trying to. She likes you,” Karen said.

Matt sighed. “It’s gnawing on my finger.”

“Aw.”

“_Foggy!_” He needed that finger to do his job, all right? How was he supposed to read Braille without his fingers? “Mrs. Lin is going to come in any minute now; we’ve got actual work to do.” Matt finally liberated his poor, abused finger after wiggling it. “Maybe she’ll want to take the cat.”

Mrs. Lin didn’t want to take the cat; her landlady forbade pets. Mrs. Lin, however, cooed over the makeshift kitty playground in Matt’s office and said she was sure he’d make a great cat daddy, especially since he was blind, too.

There was an awkward silence.

“Blind, _too_?”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Mrs Lin said.

“I’m not – the cat is blind? No one told me the cat is blind!”

“Um,” Foggy said.

“Hard to say for sure,” Karen said.

“Its eyes are all blue and I can’t see pupils,” Mrs Lin said.

Matt left the tiny conference room for his own office to take a moment to breathe in peace, remembered the _blind baby cat_ was there, and went to lock himself in the bathroom like any dignified lawyer would in such a situation.

Frank was his only hope. Frank would never want to have a kitten at home, right?

Wrong.

Frank, like everyone else, was a traitor who didn’t deserve to sleep on silk sheets tonight. He’d already bought kitten food, set up a litter box, and booked an appointment with a vet for the next morning. Right before they left the office, after the cat had been put back into the box, he even told Karen he’d started thinking about building a cat tree from leftover carpet and tubes and scrapped plywood from the range where he worked.

Matt fumed all the way back home.

“Why do you hate her so much?”

“I don’t hate it! But we can’t – it’s just too much work. It’s a baby, and it’s blind, and… the apartment isn’t cat-proof, especially not for a blind cat!”

“What’s wrong with a blind cat?”

“It’s… it’s blind! It can’t see where it’s going, or jumping from, or if there’s any danger around; it’s going to get hurt and it will be _our fault_.”

“Hm.”

They stopped at the intersection and Matt wrapped both hands around his cane. “What?”

“Is that why you’re doing what you’re doing? Because you’re blind?”

“I…”

“When you’re off doing rooftop acrobatics or jumping into a fight, you don’t realize the danger because you’re blind. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Well, no, I…”

“You have a point though; you sure get hurt a lot.”

“It’s different!”

Frank only grunted in answer.

“It _is_.”

“You’re an idiot, Murdock.”

Matt gritted his teeth and kept silent until they got home.

* * *

Why couldn't Red wrap his head around the idea of having a blind cat? At his office, he’d seemed almost scared of the fluffball, going out of his way to avoid her and jumping at every noise she made. And then he’d refused to carry the box, spouted ridiculous stuff about the cat jumping to her death, and generally behaved like an idiot.

While Murdock was hiding in the bedroom (officially for an early evening nap, but Frank knew better), Frank showed the kitty where the litter box was, then gently poked her until they reached the kitchen where he’d set the food and water bowls. There was probably more stuff they’d need if they were to keep her, but it could wait. Probably. Kitty had survived so far, right? He should find her something soft to sleep on, too; she looked too tiny to be able to jump onto the couch yet. Frank grabbed a few torn shirts from Red’s Daredevil gear and made a pile of them in a corner, and she seemed to like that. _Murdock_ wouldn't like that, but those shirts had been in the “I’ll mend them” pile for weeks: they’d had it coming.

She was soon bolder than Frank had expected. She mostly kept near the walls, but started exploring two days after getting to her new home. The vet had been right; the harness and leash she’d recommended for blind cats would come in handy pretty soon. The doc had said the cat was indeed female, about 5 or 6 weeks old, and perfectly healthy. She’d chipped her and given some general advice and a schedule with vaccines and such, and Frank was a bit too sharply reminded of other schedules, other doctors. Other tiny, living beings that had depended on him and Maria for everything. Fuck, he missed her. He missed them. She’d always been so calm with their kids; she’d always known what to do. Murdock, on the other hand… Murdock had too much baggage to be the level-headed one.

Red kept avoiding interactions with the kitten; he’d been out every night since she’d come home with them. And yet, when they’d been at the vet he’d asked all the questions: what should a cat’s temperature be like? What about its heart rate, how fast was too fast? How much food and when, what should be in it and what shouldn't, what toys were good and what were not? And then the vet said they should give her a name because too many cats were called Cat or Kitty already, and Red had clammed up and said they might not keep it, so why bother? The doc had made a weird face at that.

Red’s avoidance tactics ended on the evening a child terrified the cat. It was about 6 o’clock, and Frank could hear him chatting with their neighbor, Fran. Her grandson was staying with her for a few days, and she wanted to introduce them so they’d know each other. Right as Murdock opened the door and called Frank, the kid heard the cat mew; before anyone could react he dashed in to find her and pick her up, squealing like only a 5-year-old could. And then, all hell broke loose.

The kid was running around the couch screaming “Kitty! Kitty!” while said kitty was yowling and fighting the kid’s tight grip, Fran was trying and failing to stop the kid, and Frank didn’t trust himself to try and catch the boy without hurting him. He was just a kid, but so was the cat, and she was _terrified_. Finally, Red managed to not-so-accidentally step in the kid’s way, make him stumble enough he loosened his hold on the cat, and then she jumped out of the boy’s hands to scramble straight up Red’s suit until he caught her and cradled her against his chest.

“Kitty?” The boy said.

“She’s not a toy, Sammy. She’s very scared right now.” Murdock sounded way calmer than Frank felt.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think he would react like that,” Fran said. She caught the kid’s arm and held him firmly as she hadn’t been doing before.

“But I wanted to pet her!”

“Sammy, you should apologize to Frank and Matt.”

“But I…”

“_Sammy_.”

The boy looked up at the kitten. She was still trembling in Red’s hands, and Frank could see a bit of blood on his fingers, as if she’d been using her claws to hold on to him better.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” the kid said. He looked a bit mulish about the whole procedure, but at least he was saying the words. “I’m sorry, kitty. I’m sorry, Frank.” He didn’t sound or look sorry.

“Just don’t do it again, alright? Not to any animal you see. You don’t know them, they don’t know you, yeah?” Frank narrowed his eyes. “Just ask the owner before touching an animal, you hear me?”

The kid nodded, his lower lip sticking out.

“I think we should leave, Sammy.” Fran dragged him to the door, apologized again, and finally left.

“Fuck,” Frank said in the quiet apartment. “How’s she?”

“I don’t know. How am I supposed to know? What does she look like? Does she look normal? She feels – I don’t know! I can’t read the brochures the vet gave us.”

Jesus, he was actually freaking out. “Can’t you hear her heartbeat? Is she trembling? It’s all common sense, Red. You’re holding her, what do you feel?”

“She’s, uh. She’s.” He focused on the cat, his head to the side. “Her heartbeat’s slowing down, she’s not trembling as much. Her fur’s still a bit fluffed up.”

“Okay. Good. That’s good.”

Red’s mouth opened and closed, then he nodded. He didn’t look convinced. “Right.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” He shook his head. “I’m fine. Here, I’m just… yeah.” Murdock thrust the cat in Frank’s hands and disappeared in the bedroom, sliding the door closed behind him.

So it was back to that, then. Fine. Frank set the kitten back on her nest of shirts and settled on the couch to watch her. She burrowed into the fabric then after a while emerged again, her little paws soundless on the floor. She was looking for something – someone. She made a beeline for the bedroom door and meowed a high-pitched little meow, then scratched at the door. Frank didn’t move and observed her, how she was padding back and forth along the door and trying to find a way in. She wanted to be with her hero.

Frank went to slide open the door and the kitty slipped inside right away, going straight to the bed. She’d never been inside the bedroom, but she could clearly tell where Matt was. She stretched her little front legs as far up as she could then tried to jump on the bed, but she couldn't estimate how high she had to go. She was, Frank remembered, blind or mostly blind. But she was also persistent and so she jumped again, planted her claws in the covers, and scrambled up the last few inches until she could curl up against her savior. Matt slept on, oblivious; or maybe he was faking it. Frank wouldn’t put it past him. It all was disgustingly cute, and Frank took a few pictures for Karen. She’d like them.

Once he was sure nothing else would happen for a while, Frank left the bedroom and opened his inventory file on the old laptop he’d liberated from some low-life whose business he'd burned down. Old, but sturdy, and enough for his needs. He started taking guns and boxes of ammo out of the metal chest where he was storing (some of) his gear and began updating the file.

After a while, Frank heard soft murmurs from the bedroom, and he went to investigate. Red was awake and, wonder of wonders, playing with the kitten. He was hitting the mattress all around her, and she was chasing the fingers thumping into the fabric. He let her win sometimes, allowing her to catch him and then praising her.

“You training her to hunt ninjas?”

Red frowned. “Not training her. She’s just a kitten.”

Frank sat on the bed; the cat stumbled into the dip and climbed on his lap. “Vet said she should have a name.”

“We can’t keep her.”

“Sure we can.”

“Frank…”

“What’s your problem, Murdock?” Really.

“It’s just…” He rolled onto his back.

“If you say she’s blind just one more time I’m going to break your pretty nose.”

“Pretty, huh? Ow,” he said mildly when Frank gave him a vicious pinch. “But she is, and I am. I could, I don’t know, I could sit on her. I could _kill_ her.”

Frank stared. “I’ve seen you somehow avoid sitting on a magazine, Red. Of a _handgun_. Not that big, no heartbeat.”

“She’s scared.”

“How do you figure?” Fuck, it was like getting Frank, Jr. to talk.

“Because I remember,” he said after a while.

“Remember what?”

Red didn’t say anything at first, but after a while he sighed and waved his hand in front of his face. “Did I ever tell you…?”

“No.” Not really. Karen had told him Matt had been nine, that it had been an accident. Matt himself… He talked around it, sometimes. He talked about his dad, how he’d had those senses of his since then. His shitty sensei, that one time. But never how he’d felt, how terrified he must have been. How angry. He’d never stopped being angry. “Vet said she was born that way. She never knew anything else, she doesn’t know she’s missing anything.”

“How can we be sure?”

“She looks alright.” Murdock opened his mouth. “Don’t say it.”

“Fine.”

Frank picked the cat up and dropped her on Matt’s stomach, and he watched her pad up his chest until she settled right under his chin. “I’m not good at names.”

“And I am?”

“Just pick something.”

Red’s hand covered the cat. “She’s so tiny,” he said. “Like a… Frank.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s that book you told me about, once.” No. “That you used to read your daughter.” _No_. “And she’s so tiny.”

“We’re not calling the cat Penny.”

They called the cat Penny.

* * *

And once again, Frank made things easier. Simpler. He was a rock, and Matt’s worries just… dissipated. Frank dealt with the litter box and occasional… leaks, Matt took care of the food and made sure it smelled right, and Penny settled. So did Matt; he got used to her fast heartbeat, to her mews and her squeaks and her scratching. He learned to brush her with a toothbrush because she was too small for anything else, and Frank lost the battle to keep her away from the bedroom.

Frank came home one day with a cat tree he’d made himself; Matt bought a tiny kitty harness and they started taking her outside. First the roof, then they tried the park. She was particularly intrigued by the grass and the trees, but she liked home the best. Her favorite perch was the box on top of the tree, where she’d dragged some old rags that turned out to be another old shirt of Matt’s and a piece of cloth that Frank used to clean firearms.

Karen found it hilarious that Penny was stealing their clothes, and one day she and Foggy presented Matt with a wrapped up gift.

“What is it?”

“Open it and you’ll know,” Foggy said.

“Can I guess?” It was some sort of cylinder, not quite the right size for Coke or beer but definitely metallic.

“_Can_ you?” Karen’s nails tapped the gift. “It doesn’t sound like what it actually is. That's why we picked it.”

“Aw, that’s petty.”

“No, it’s not. Come on, open it!”

So he did, and it was a sort of can, and at Foggy’s urging he opened that, too. “It’s… a t-shirt?” It didn’t feel weird, but maybe… “Is it bright yellow?”

“It’s a perfectly good shirt, Matty. Definitely not yellow. Mostly black.”

“Any particular reason you’re dressing me up?”

“Well, you said the Fratt Cat kept stealing yours, and since I’m the one who brought her to you I’m feeling a little guilty. Just a little, mind you.”

“It’s your size,” Foggy added. “I helped her choose it.”

Matt finally managed to make his mouth work. “_The Fratt Cat?_”

“Well, ‘Frank and Matt’s cat’ is a bit long, you know?”

“It’s Foggy’s idea,” Karen said.

“And a good one, if I may say so myself.”

“But I – but we – but she’s got a name! An actual name!”

“So you said, but Fratt Cat is much better.”

“Penny is a _great_ name. She’s tiny and orange, like a penny! …she _is_ orange, right?”

“Yup. Hair will show just fine on your new shirt.”

Matt sighed. The perils of pet ownership, he supposed. “Well, thank you.”

“For the cat, or for the shirt?”

Matt threw the balled-up wrapping paper at Karen’s head.

* * *

After the first week of avoidance, Murdock had done a 180 and was now totally kitten smitten. And it was mutual, too: Penny loved him. Frank wasn’t jealous, of course; she just preferred the guy who fed her to the one who scooped her poop. Logical.

Whenever he or Red went out at night, she waited for them. She perched on the back of the sofa, and as soon as the roof access door was opened she perked up. She didn’t run up to them, no; she had her dignity. She lifted her head, licked her paw, and proceeded to do an inspection as soon as she could. They got into the habit of debriefing on the couch after coming back, and Penny would sit on the nearest lap and knead as they talked. Sometimes, there were some butterfly stitches involved; sometimes, they didn’t have much to say – “Crackheads three blocks east are gone,” or “Shut down the illegal gambing room on 35th.”

And sometimes they just had intel to share. They were still trying to find a way to stop what was happening on the empty lot where the alien ship had crashed. Penny didn’t care, but Red sure did. He’d dug up some stuff as a lawyer, but Frank was fed up with waiting. He wanted to do something. Red said there was no hurry, that they had time to build a foolproof case since they weren’t collecting that alien crap more than once or twice a week. Frank said, _Fuck it. Let’s fuck up their shit._

“It’s what they deserve.”

“Not all of them, Frank. Some of these guys, they don’t know what they’re doing is wrong; they’re undocumented folks trying to make a living or just kids. They don’t have a choice.”

“How do you know?”

“Talked with a couple last week.”

“You what?”

“Followed them in the mask.”

“Are you trying to make sure they know you’re after them?” Idiot.

“They won’t talk.”

“Of course they will.”

“I _approached_ one as a lawyer. Fogs and I, we have built a reputation for helping people like Raúl. They won’t talk.”

Frank grunted. Still idiotic. “I know what to expect there. I’ll be better prepared next time.”

“You’d be attacking the branches, not the root.”

“Cut off the branches, burn what’s left.”

“I don’t think – aw, hey girl.” Somehow Murdock’s voice went up an octave or two when Penny rolled on her back, demanding more attention. He played with her little paws, and she loved it. Frank could see all her tiny, pointy teeth when she opened her mouth wide.

“Touch her belly,” Frank said. She always fought him back when he tried; he’d like to see if Red could and survive it unscathed.

“Why?” But he didn’t leave Frank time to answer; he immediately wiggled his fingertips in the white fur of her belly. She sort of squeaked and batted at his fingers, but the claws stayed sheathed. “Aw, she’s so soft there.”

Frank tried to tickle her stomach too, and got a few red lines on his palm for his trouble. “She’s just like you, Red.”

“I’m not that hairy.”

Frank wisely didn’t answer as the kitten suddenly decided she’d had enough and jumped off the couch to go to her tree. He’d made it so she could reach each level easily in spite of her size but she generally ignored the lower levels, at best using them as stairs to get up the tree. To go down, she simply jumped from the highest point like – well, like an idiot. That very idiot there, with his head a little to the side as he listened to Penny’s progress up the tree.

“These assholes need to be taken down.”

“Hm? Oh. That’s not justice, Frank.”

“What do you mean, it’s not justice? By the time you’ve built up a strong enough case for your appeal to the mayor, they’ll have finished collecting that shit and made their bombs. They’ll have killed people with it, and that will be on us. On _you_.”

“But there should be a trial, an investigation and a trial! That would lead to their entire organization if they’re working with others, to finding out their goals… that would be useful, Frank. In the long run, more lives could be saved.”

“Some people just need gone and you know it.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do. Like, Bin Laden needed gone. We went and took him out. End of story.”

“Not quite the end, though. Look at…”

“Whatever.” Frank wasn’t in the mood for Mr. I’ll Debate You To Death. “I’m going in tomorrow.”

“Not on your own.”

“What do you think you’re gonna do, drive the trucks away while they’re distracted?”

“No.”

“Stop me, maybe? So they get a fucking _fair trial_? They’re mass murderers or about to be. I’m ending them.”

“Frank, they’ll end _you_ if you go in alone.”

“Place is empty in the afternoons. I’ll go there, plant some explosives. I’ll detonate them on one side as I go in through another; they won’t know what’s hitting them.”

“Your plan is to not only confront them on your own, but confront them on your own _while you set off bombs everywhere_.”

“Problem?”

“Yeah, problem!” Murdock threw up his hands and left the couch to start pacing. “I don’t know where to start. You’re… Look, we’re this close to finding out who’s actually behind this! Even if you take them out, others will come. We could keep digging and get to the head, Frank. And at the same time, Fogs and I can keep pushing for better regulation of the empty lots that haven’t been cleaned out yet.”

“And how long have you been doing that?”

“The association only came to us two months ago; it’s not that long in the real world.”

“Fuck the real world. It’s too slow.” Murdock opened his mouth to argue, but Frank caught his wrist as he stomped close to the couch and held it tight. “I’m going tomorrow. You can’t stop me.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.” Frank stood up and looked down at Red’s pinched face. Shame he was blind; Frank would have loved a good stare down. Not that it would have worked. “I don’t need you.”

Another rant was coming, he could see it. The little frown, the pursed lips, the deep breath – Frank pulled on a few strands of hair at the back of the little shit’s head. “Oh,” Red exhaled. “Oh, that’s not fair.” Who cared? It worked every time, too.

“Told you, Murdock. I don’t give a shit about _fair_.”

A few more tugs, and Frank could now easily steer him into the bedroom. Red would remember to fight soon enough, but it would be a different kind of fight anyway. Meanwhile, he’d shut up about justice and fairness and going with Frank. Yeah, much better.

* * *

Frank often said Matt was an idiot, but he really had no ground to stand on. And, fine, maybe sometimes Matt didn't think things through as well as he should, but at least he didn’t go guns blazing into a trap he’d set himself. Sure, Frank knew where he’d set up all the C4. It clearly hadn’t prevented him from being cornered there, right? Matt was furious. Of course he’d followed; he wasn’t going to stay behind just because Frank told him to. He’d followed, and he’d spotted Raúl and his buddies loading a truck. He’d warned them away, told them not to get caught in the shit storm about to fall down on them.

Once they’d left, Matt had knocked down a few other goons, the kind that chose to work for criminals and knew full well what they were doing. Soon enough, he’d heard a gunfight two hundred feet away, on the other side of the lot. Frank. The first bricks of C4 had exploded then, but Matt had kept well enough away from the distinctive smell. He really, really hadn’t wanted to get caught near it; his head would have been ringing for hours and it would have made him a sitting duck. But he’d still been fine then, and he’d dispatched some more henchmen that were running away from the explosion. Well, the first explosion. He’d let a few others end up near another C4 trap and worked to get closer to Frank.

He could hear Frank then, his breathing and heart rate faster than usual but still well within the _fine_ range, the now familiar, almost _domestic_ sounds of him reloading or ejecting a magazine. He could hear him shooting, grunting, moving; he’d heard cartilage smashed – the butt of Frank’s gun on a nose, probably – and shouts, too. But he hadn’t cared about any of it, as long as Frank had been fine. And he had to be, right? Even if he’d been vastly outnumbered, even if… _boom_.

And then Frank hadn’t been fine anymore. Something had gone wrong. Matt had gotten back to his feet, used the truck door to knock down the guy running at him, and focused on Frank – heart rate up, a wheeze in his lungs, and he’d gotten slower. Matt had hauled himself up the scaffolding that was right over the hole they’d been digging and sped through the metal beams until – oh shit.

And that's where they were, now. Deep into shit. Frank had been caught in an explosion, not of C4 but of a container of whatever it was they were mining, the alien fuel or whatever. Matt himself had been far enough away that he was still mostly fine, but his head was still woozy; he’d lost a few moments there. Less than a minute, he decided. He hadn’t even really lost consciousness, not _really_. He was fine.

Matt made his way to where Frank was and felt for wounds. Frank was knocked out, bleeding from a grazing gunshot wound to the side and shrapnel all over his arms and torso. At least he’d managed to protect his face. Not everyone had been so lucky: a guy a couple feet away was lying with something through the gut, another was caught under… something. A cinder block, maybe. Matt didn’t go check.

“Frank,” he said. “Frank, you with me?” He had to wake up; Matt wasn’t going to carry him out to… to… to where, anyway? He was just knocked out; he’d start telling Matt off any minute now, he’d… “Come on, we can’t stay here, you know that!” He was breathing okay, and Matt couldn’t hear anything worrying – a couple broken ribs from the explosion but they were not threatening his lungs; his spine was fine, his legs too; he could walk. He would.

“Fuck,” Frank said. Finally.

“Yeah, that’s it. Can you stand up?”

“Ah, _fuuuck_.” He shoved Matt’s hand away got on all four, then on his knees. “What’re you doing here, Red?”

“Saving your ass.” Asshole.

“Don’t need…”

Matt caught him under the armpits and hauled him the rest of the way up. “Shut up and walk, Frank.” Matt was too shaken by the blast to carry him anywhere, and thankfully Frank could move as long as he could lean on Matt.

They hobbled out, Matt’s senses on alert for any of the remaining goons that had to still be around. There was a low-level buzz in his ears that didn’t help, but that was all they had to go on. Once they were out of the lot, then they’d have to decide what to do; he wasn’t looking forward to getting Frank up the stairs to the apartment on his own.

“Mr. Daredevil!”

Frank slammed them down behind a large drum container and pulled another gun from God knew where. Matt felt at the same time comforted and horrified. “Hands up!”

“Mr. Punisher, _¿sí?_”

“Raúl!” Matt slid from under Frank’s arm and stepped out of their cover. “What are you still doing here?”

“We heard the explosions you told us about, Mr. Daredevil. So I drove back in case you needed help.”

“It’s too dangerous!”

Frank’s gun hand came to rest on Matt’s shoulder. He could feel the slight tremors in it. “You know that guy, Red?”

“_Sí_, Mr. Daredevil sent us to Mr Nelson for our papers. I want to help too.”

“Nelson_ and Murdock_,” Matt said.

Raúl sighed. “_Sí_, and Mr. Murdock. _Claro_.” Matt tried not to focus on Raúl’s slightly mocking voice; if he’d guessed his identity he’d deal with it later. “I’m parked half a block away, I can drive you where you need to be. As a thank you. More _discreto_ than limping around.”

“No,” Frank said.

Matt ignored him. “Okay.” It _would_ be safer and he wasn’t about to have Raúl to drive them right to his door, right?

It turned out Raúl didn’t ask where to take them because he knew where he lived. Raúl _had_ guessed, and Matt’s day job meant many of the people he and Foggy had helped knew where to find them: their office, their homes, Matt’s church. But there was a silver lining, Matt thought as they mostly carried Frank up the stairs. Raúl helped him drag a less and less responsive Frank to the couch, assured him that he wouldn’t betray his secret, and finally left after Matt had repeated about ten times that they’d be fine.

But he wasn’t sure that was true. Frank had been slipping in and out of consciousness for a while and was mostly out now, and Matt himself… he wasn’t so good. He should call someone, but who? He found his phone, listened to the time, and took it back with him to the couch. He sat on the floor and let his head fall on Frank’s hip after taking his mask off. He could provide first aid himself, right? He could… he could…

Tiny pinpricks in his thigh pulled him out of his reverie. He’d been falling asleep.

“Mew.”

Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah. Kitty. “Hey,” he said.

“Mew!” More pinpricks.

“Izzit?”

She left his lap and he heard a tiny thump, and then – a grunt. Frank. Matt lifted his head too fast and he had to take a couple seconds before the world stopped spinning and messing with his senses, then he grabbed Penny under the belly and put her back on the floor. “Stay there, all right?” Okay, okay. He got this. “Frank? Frank, you with me?”

No answer.

“Frank!”

Matt could hear his heart beating, the air flowing in his lungs. Slowly, yes; but still beating, still flowing. For now. And Matt… couldn't stand up, couldn't get to the first aid kit. But he had his phone in his hand, right? So he could call someone. Who? Who, at this hour? Maggie was often awake at any and all hours; they should have gone to St. Agnes. But they hadn’t and she didn’t have a cell phone, so… his head fell back on the couch. He could think of only one other name.

“Foggy,” he whispered when someone picked up their phone on the other end of the line.

“What the – shit, Matt? Is that you? Where are you?” The sound of sheets rustling, a female voice mumbling, Foggy answering. Muffled. Sound was in and out, now. The world was in and out.

“Home?” Yeah, home. Frank was right against him. He could feel his chest moving a little against his cheek: alive. Good.

“Matt?”

The tiniest weight on his lap again, and then nothing.

Cool air on his face, hands. “Hey, Matty. You with me?”

He was flat on his back now, something hard under him – the floor. He was on the floor, his mask was off. He remembered… “Frank,” he said.

“Claire’s with him. You’re not looking too hot yourself, buddy. What happened?”

Matt felt his face scrunch up. “Huh.” Thinking? Too hard.

“Nope, don’t close your eyes; stay with me, okay? Stay with me.” Oh, it was Foggy’s voice. He sounded a bit worried. “Claire says you’re maybe concussed, but not dying quite right now at least. Just don’t close your eyes, all right?”

“M’blind anyways.”

“Yup. But you can’t sleep, not before she’s looked at you.”

What for? “Ribs,” he said. “Bruised?” Okay, cracked. Not too bad. That, and – “Head.”

“Yes, big egg on the noggin you got there.” Something cool and wet on his face: nice. “There, I’m taking the worst of the blood off so we can see where the cut is.”

“Boom.”

“Boom? As in, explosion?”

Yes. “Frank.”

“He’s right there.” Not Foggy. Who…? Oh.

“Claire.”

“Reporting for duty,” she said. She was closer now, and – yes. Her gloves on his skin. He hadn’t felt that in a while.

“M’not boring, eh?”

She sneezed. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re alive.” Ow. Did she have to prod so hard? “But I’d have preferred to hear from you in different circumstances, you know? And away from cats.” Stitches in his scalp. Familiar.

“Didn’t want to see me.”

“I thought you were dead for months, you jerk.”

Matt smiled. “Me too.”

“Yeah, well. Saw you were back in the papers. You could have called.”

“Didn’t want to see me,” he repeated. That was what she’d wanted, right?

“Matt Murdock, you’re an idiot.” She tied the last knot and her scissors clicking so near his ear made him wince.

A cut-off groan from the couch. “That he is.”

“Hey,” Matt said. But he felt his lips stretch out in a smile: Frank was talking. “Told you not to go.”

Frank grunted. “Shouldn’t’ve followed.”

Rustling sounds, then: “Stay down, big guy. Or the cat gets it.”

“Claire, no. You can’t threaten the Fratt Cat,” Foggy said.

“The what?” She was laughing.

“Penny,” Matt and Frank said at the same time.

“Don’t mind them, everybody calls her the Fratt Cat.”

Foggy was wrong. Not everybody. But Matt saved his energy and didn’t say it out loud, instead rolling to his side and pushing on his arms.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Frank,” he told Claire. If she didn’t want to help, Matt didn’t care. He’d go to the couch anyway.

“Guess we can’t stop you, right?”

He didn’t shake his head, it would have made him lose what little balance he had. Claire and Foggy helped after all, and soon he was leaning against the couch again. “Told you so.”

“Fuck you, Red.”

“Not in front of them.” Matt smiled when Frank’s hand landed on his nape, heavy and warm. He let his head fall against Frank’s shoulder.

“Definitely not in front of us,” Foggy agreed. “Ew.”

“You’re not planning on spending the rest of the night like that, are you?” Claire was trying to pull him away from Frank, but he resisted.

“M’staying here.”

“No, you’re not.”

Then there was a lot of pushing and prodding and maybe even some yanking when he tried to dig his fingers in the cushions, but a few minutes later he found himself on the bed, right next to Frank. _Ow_, his ribs said. He didn’t want to stay on his back but his entire body told him not to move. Ow.

“I’ll stay with them,” Foggy was saying. “Thank you for coming, in spite of… you know. Everything.”

The front door opened. “They should be fine. I’m glad you called, really.” Claire’s sigh echoed in the hallway outside. “Matt’s Matt. Can’t change him, right?”

“He’s learning. Slowly.” Matt wondered vaguely what Foggy meant, but then Penny scrambled up the bed. He felt her climb over his legs and pad over them until she settled between Frank and him, and that was a much more pleasant thing to focus on. He drifted away, Frank’s heavy, slow breathing and the cat’s fast heartbeat in his ears.

“Aw,” Foggy whispered. “I’m taking pictures for Karen, you bet I am.”

Matt considered sticking his middle finger up, but he was just… too tired. He let his mind float away where his ribs didn’t hurt.

* * *

Frank’s head was killing him. Well, his head, and his ribs, and his wrist. He was pretty sure something was wrong with his collarbone, too. He’d woken up to the feeling of something very cold and kind of dripping on his neck and yeah, that was an ice pack. Had been, more like; the ice was gone. He squinted at the window. He wasn’t really flat on his back but slightly elevated on pillows. Moving… wasn’t a great idea, but broken bones and dizziness weren’t enough to keep him down; he was a fucking Marine. As he was trying to find a way to push himself up without making his injuries worse, the bedroom door slid open.

“Hey. Heard you were up.”

“Red.” Frank took a good long look at him. “Not looking so hot.”

“No, I imagine you’re not.”

“Not talking bout me.”

And here it was, that shit-eating grin he wanted to make Red swallow back. “Aw, but Frank, _I_ didn’t even break anything.”

_Fuck you_, he wanted to answer, but then Murdock knelt gingerly, grabbed something on the floor, and threw it on the bed.

“Mew,” Penny said.

“Did you just throw the cat?”

“She likes it.”

The blind kitten liked being tossed places she couldn’t see, not knowing where she was landing? She was as bad as Red, and it was his fault. “Whatever. Nelson’s gone?”

“Yeah. I think he’s pissed at you, by the way.” Frank shrugged, remembered this was a bad idea, and tugged on Penny’s tail to get her to play with him. Nelson was probably pissed at them both, really. “Need help?”

Frank looked up at Murdock’s face, his not too steady legs. “Not from you, no. Wall’s holding you up.”

“Hey,” but then they both turned their heads to the sound of the front door opening.

“I know you’re up,” and it was the Sister’s voice. She came to join Red in the door and looked down her nose at Frank. “Foggy called to ask me to come; he seems to think you’re going to try and go back to your vigilante ways as soon as no one’s looking.”

“No,” Red said. He fooled no one.

“Matthew, go sit on the couch. You shouldn’t be up.”

“No,” he repeated, petulant as tired a kid sent to bed.

“Matthew.” Frank couldn’t tell how she did it, but the Sister glared at Red and he shuffled back into the room in the direction of the couch. Blind as he was, he wasn’t immune. “Now you, Frank. You were trying to get up on your own.”

“Gotta pi – go to the bathroom.” Maybe he could try to work on his manners around the nun, yeah? Murdock’s muffled laughter annoyed him, but then laughter turned into a series of _Ow_s and that was better.

The Sister also seemed to find Frank funny, though. Like mother… “Lean on me, I’ll help you up.”

“I’m heavy.”

“She’s stronger than you’d expect,” Red said from the couch.

“Family trait?” Frank asked. The Sister ignored him as she helped him up and there was a very pointed silence from the sitting room. Fuck that. “You ever talk about it?” It was like speaking in the desert. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they know there was never enough time, that everything could be taken from you at any moment?

“Do you need my help in there?”

“No.” He wasn’t letting a nun hold his dick as he pissed. He reached out to open the door, but then she stopped him. “What?”

“Do _you_ ever talk about it?”

Frank frowned. “About what?”

“About when you – ”

“Maggie,” Red said.

Her lips pursed, and she turned away from Frank and left him standing there like an idiot, so he went in and did what he had to do.

“Talk about what?” He asked when he stepped out. No one came to help him. He didn’t need help anyway.

“Nothing,” Murdock replied right as the Sister said from where she was looking at his scalp wound, “When you…” She stopped when Red shook his head.

“When I what?”

She pointed at Red’s ear while glaring at Frank, but Red batted her hand away and frowned. Red was usually a chatty guy and it was never a good sign when he was quiet, but Frank was just too tired and achy to go digging right then.

“I should check your bandages,” she finally said.

“They’re fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Sit down and show me your arms.”

And, well. Frank knew when he should just shut up and do what he was told, and sometimes he even did it.

It was a good thing they had the entire weekend to recuperate before going back to work looking like they’d lost a fight against a semi. Well, Frank was pretty sure people at the range suspected who he was and wouldn’t bother him, but Murdock’s clients… though they might actually be used to seeing him bruised.

The Sister didn’t come back, but Nelson and Karen did. They brought food, took care of the litter box, and made very clear their opinions about Matt and Frank’s little outing.

“At least we fucked up their operation for a while,” Frank said.

Nelson wasn’t impressed. “The point is to fuck it up for good. Now you’ve just let them know to be more careful.”

“Bought us time to be better prepared.”

“Why am I even trying? And you,” he said pointing at Murdock who’d just emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp. “And _you_, why did you follow him?”

“He was going to get himself killed.”

“Wasn’t.”

“You almost were, Frank.” Red disappeared into the bedroom.

“_Wasn’t_.”

“Because Matty was there.”

Frank huffed. Whatever, he’d have been fine. A little knocked about, but he’d survived much worse before. “I’ll get them.”

Nelson threw his hands up and jostled Penny enough that she left his lap. “I can’t believe it. You were a soldier, right? Aren’t you people all about teamwork?”

“It’s different.” The cat curled on Frank’s thighs and he gave Nelson a smug smile. “Things have changed.”

“I still believe we can take them down in a better, more permanent way.” Frank looked up from Penny’s orange fur to – “What the hell, Red?”

“What?”

“What are you wearing?”

“… clothes?”

Nelson’s face was creased in new and interesting ways. “You know what I’m talking about, right?” Frank asked.

“Nope, not me. Nothing.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Do you _know_ what you’re wearing?” More frantic gestures from Nelson. Frank ignored him.

“Um.” Red pinched his shirt between two fingers, looking confused. “Sweatpants, shirt, and socks?” Fucking socks. Always those fucking socks. “I… don’t think anything is bright yellow or anything like that, right? You _said_ the shirt wasn’t yellow when you gave it to me!”

“Nope, not yellow,” Nelson said.

“Not yellow,” Frank confirmed.

Red was looking sort of worried now. “It’s gray or black? I think?” His face smoothed out. “Although there must be lots of cat hair on it.” Well, that too. And a giant Punisher skull on the black shirt.

Nelson put his finger in front of his mouth and widened his eyes at Frank.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Frank said. “Lots of cat hair. I’ll buy one of those sticky rollers.”

“Cat hair’s fine. You Marines, no middle ground; you’re either covered in sweat and dried blood or wearing starched-up dress blues.”

“You’ve never seen me in dress blues, Red.”

“I’ve never seen you at all.”

“You know what?” Nelson said a bit too loudly. “I think we should have a blind jokes jar. One dollar for each blind joke you make, Matt. It can all go into our coffee maker fund for the office.”

“Aw, Foggy, that’s ableist of you. Blind jokes are how I cope. And I’m in my own home, I’m allowed to make them.”

“I am texting Karen about it as we speak, buddy.”

“Fine, then _you’re_ paying one dollar every time you mention you could have been a butcher. How’s that?”

Frank let their bickering go over him. He didn’t _like_ being _covered in sweat and dried blood_, whatever Red said. It just happened. For now he closed his eyes; a little nap with Penny sounded good.

The next week was pretty much average. Of course, Red ignored all advice and put on his stupid mask again on Thursday night. He was limping a bit when he got back home, and Frank sighed and took his sling off. Time for some late night first aid, then.

“Think I busted a couple stitches,” he said, then hissed when Frank cut off his shirt.

Yeah, he had. Frank got a suture kit out and irrigated the wound. Penny was very curious and came a little closer, but she seemed to recognize what was going on and settled back on the cushions. “You should have stayed here.”

“But I found out someone’s bribing big wigs in the city’s Department of Health and Mental Hygiene.”

“And?”

“_And_, that’s something we might work with. If we find out more from the legal angle… Oooh, who’s got the softest fur?” Frank rolled his eyes; of course Red would let himself be distracted. He put the solution on the table and got the needle and thread out. “Besides, Karen still has contacts at the Bulletin,” Red went on after a moment. “We could get them, Frank.”

“At best, they’d end up in jail.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“They’d get out, afterwards.”

“By then, the lot will have been decontaminated. You can’t kill everyone, you know. That’s not a solution.”

Frank smiled. “Watch me.”

Red twitched. “I’m not going to say it.”

“Thought you needed that new coffee maker?”

“Don’t make me laugh when you're stabbing me with a needle!”

“You deserve it.” Frank tied the last knot and put away the kit.

When he came back, Red was running his fingers over the new stitches. “Yours are almost as good as Maggie’s.”

“Nobody does it better than mom, is that it?”

“Don't call her that.”

“That's what she is.” Red didn’t answer. “You should talk, before it’s too late. You never know – you can never know when people are taken from you.”

“It’s too soon.”

“It could be too late tomorrow.”

Red turned around to face him, his eyes wide. “What are you – do you know something? What… you’re scaring me, Frank. Did she tell you something?”

“No, I’m just… I’m sure she’s fine.” He covered Red’s hand over his heart. “Feel it. Am I lying?” He wasn’t, and Red shook his head.

“No, you’re not.” He turned his hand in Frank’s and threaded their fingers together. “I don’t know what I’d tell her.”

“You do.” Red shook his head. “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Bullshit.”

“I just want to know… I want to know why. She never told me, she never came to see me even when… she never _would_ have told me, if I hadn’t overheard her.”

“Well, ask her, then. Get it out, get it off your chest.” _It’s eating you up, both of you, _but Frank kept that for himself.

“I’ll… think about it.”

“You do that.” It was a start, anyway.

Frank fell asleep easily. He always did. But sometimes, he woke up in the middle of the night, or right at sunup. Could be it was the light streaming through Red’s giant windows or that neon billboard flashing too many colors in the room. Could be it was a nightmare or a memory. He didn’t question it. He didn’t really want to think about it. When he could feel his heart beating a bit too fast though, he knew.

These days, it could also be one little furball attacking his toes (always his, never Red’s) through the covers.

“Get off,” he mumbled. She wasn’t supposed to get on the bed but someone regularly took naps with her, so she did it anyway. He tried to shake her off, but that only made her more enthusiastic. Frank sighed and looked at the time: 3am. He wouldn’t go back to sleep easily, he could feel it.

Well, there was one thing that could maybe help; so he pushed Penny down and left the bedroom. Some weapons maintenance would calm him down, and he’d meant to check a couple that had felt a bit wrong the last time he’d used them. He sat on the couch and put guns and tools and oil on the table, and started dismantling them. Penny, of course, came to sniff at an oil-soaked rag, and he let her have at it. The cloth he actually was going to use was still in his toolbox so she wouldn't play with it, so that one was hers.

“You helping me?” Frank whispered. She squeaked, a high-pitched sound that meant she was happy. Well, good. He looked into a barrel, cleaned it with a rod, eyed it again, checked the moving parts were not damaged… His hands worked on autopilot. After a while, Penny got bored of the rag and tried to get too close to a barrel he'd just cleaned, so he pushed her away. She came back, he pushed her again, she came back. “Don’t do that,” he said. “They’re not toys.” She ignored him, of course. Frank was starting to be pissed. “Penny, _don’t_. You know what I did to Red the first time he really pissed me off? First time we met, too.” He made a gun with his hand and aimed a finger at her tiny skull. “_Bang_. Right in the helmet.”

Red made a strange sound in the bedroom. Frank cocked his head and waited. It had been something like a whimper, and Red was generally a quiet sleeper.

“You awake?” Frank whispered. No answer, until there was another whimper. “The hell is it?” And another. Frank quickly put the gun back together, threw the tools and rags back into the box, washed his hands, and went into the bedroom. Red would moan and bitch about it for weeks it if he touched the bed with gun oil on his hands.

Well, right now it looked like he was having some sort of nightmare, almost hyperventilating. He slid the door closed behind him so the cat wouldn't disturb them.

“Red?” Frank sat on the bed and touched his shoulder, and he almost got a fist to the jaw for his trouble. “Wake up.”

“Can’t hear,” Red muttered. “Can’t hear. Can’t hear, can’t hear, can’t…” He jerked up, panting, his eyes wide open. “Can’t hear!”

Shit, what? “Hey, Red.”

“You shot me.”

That has been a while ago. “I did. You hear me, Matt?”

His shoulders sagged. He was awake. “Yeah, I… yeah.” He rubbed his face. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“No. What was that about?”

“Nothing.” Red was doing the stubborn face.

“Not nothing.”

“Just a nightmare.”

“What about?” He didn't do nightmares, usually. Or at least, not the kind that made you cry out and woke you up in a terror.

“Nothing.” He laid back down and threw an arm over his face. “I’ll just…”

But Frank was fed up, now. He pulled the arm away and stared down into those empty eyes. “Talk.” It had been _something_, and Frank had a sick feeling in his gut it was because of him. But Red was keeping silent, of course. “You said I shot you.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t remember. I wasn’t awake.”

Right. “Then you said you couldn't hear.”

“Obviously I can.”

“I did shoot you.”

“Couple years ago, Frank. Let it go.”

“You haven't. What happened?” He’d shot him in the head, because he was wearing Kevlar that looked thick enough to stop the bullet and he’d known, even back then, that nothing short of being knocked out would stop him. But after that, what _had_ happened?

“Broke my helmet.”

“I remember. What else?” Frank was starting to get a pretty good idea, by now. Red’s lips thinned, and he didn't say anything else. “You got a concussion, maybe?”

“You said ‘Bang’,” Red finally whispered.

“To the cat.”

“And then you shot me.” Ah. Right. “Fogs was so angry,” he went on. “He wanted me to stop, he wanted me… he left, and he was furious, and I didn’t want to stop.”

“Not your style.”

“And then I couldn’t hear anything. I was blind. Frank, I was _blind_.” Fuck, his voice was unsteady. “It came back, but it was… I was…”

Shit. “Did it happen again?”

Red covered his face again, and his voice was muffled when he spoke. “You didn’t shoot me again.”

Well, that wasn’t quite an answer. “Who knows about this?” Would definitely explain why Nelson wasn’t his biggest fan.

“Just Maggie. After I was trapped under that building, I was out of it for a while. When I woke up, I was deaf in one ear.” His lips curved up. “Hits on the head, that's my weakness.”

“That’s everyone's weakness, even hardheaded assholes like you.” Frank didn’t believe in apologies, not when they were only words; but he didn’t know what else he had other than words right then. “I, uh. I’m sorry.” There.

Red’s hand left his own face to go to Frank’s arm, then his shoulder. “Am I hurting you?”

“Nah.”

“Your collarbone’s broken.”

“It’s fine.” Hurt a bit, but his touch was light enough Frank didn’t mind.

“You’re lying.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Okay.” He didn’t look like he believed Frank though, and he took his hand away. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Why?”

Red didn’t answer right away. He moved to the other side of the bed, to _Frank's_ side, and patted the mattress next to him. Once Frank was half-lying, half-sitting next to him, he spoke again. “Sometimes, you go up on the roof to answer your friends’ calls.”

“I don’t have…”

“Shut up, Frank. I hear you, you know. I hear them. There’s that guy, David, who asks you if you’re free for dinner, and you always say no. There’s another one, Curt, the one who served with you. He found you that job at the range, right? You never see him either. And…”

“Stop it.”

“I don’t mean to listen in.”

“I know.”

“But they want to see you, and you’re avoiding them.”

“I fucked up their lives.”

“You should talk to Foggy. I lied to him for years, I stole his wallet and impersonated him, I tanked our firm…”

“I helped.”

“_I tanked our firm_, I… I was a jerk to him. Don’t ask me why, but he’s still sticking around. You can’t make people’s choices for them. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“It’s different.”

“What, you're special? You’re a better, bigger asshole than I am?”

Frank looked away, to the little bit of sky he could see through the window. The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but soon; it was starting to be light outside. Not like it was ever truly night here, not like in the desert. “I _am_ an asshole.”

“You did shoot me in the head. But I didn't kick you out when you moved your stuff in, did I?”

“You couldn’t if you tried.”

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

“The Punisher.”

Red pushed himself up on an elbow and grinned that cocky smile that was all his. “But I’m the Devil, Frank.”

“Yeah?” Fuck, but he had no better comeback than that. Frank looked up into those eyes, aimed somewhere near his left ear; and yet he knew he couldn’t hide from Red.

“Big, bad Devil,” he said, his lips just above Frank’s. “Big, bad Punisher.”

“You’re not that bad.”

“I’m not that good either,” and really what happened after that was probably not quite church-approved. Frank didn’t care.

* * *

A few weeks later, they managed to take down the alien fuel mining operation. They didn’t do it Frank’s way and Frank wasn’t happy about it, but at least they were gone and the site would be decontaminated soon. Karen had convinced Ellison to run an article on the corruption in City Departments, and Matt and Foggy’s thick file had sealed it all. The association they represented won, and Matt thought they’d done well for New York and its people.

“We should celebrate,” Foggy said. Foggy was always ready to celebrate a success, and Matt didn’t have it in him to say no. Maybe the city could do without him for one night, right? “With Marci and Frank too, of course.”

“Josie’s?”

“Where else?”

“Are you sure? Marci hates it.”

“She hasn’t been there often enough, that’s all. Josie’s is an acquired taste, for discerning palates.”

Well. That, and the truly impressive quantities of booze Marci could put down, certainly made her more charitable to that bar by the end of the evening. Karen, Foggy and Marci staggered out into their Ubers, but Frank and Matt chose to walk and let the night air cool them down a little after the overheated atmosphere at Josie’s. Penny was waiting for them on the sofa’s backrest when they got to the apartment; she seemed surprised that they were coming home through the front door and not the roof access door for once, but it didn’t stop her from jumping down to inspect them.

“So what did you do when we were away?” Matt said as he scratched her belly.

“Played with the toilet paper again,” Frank called out from the bathroom.

“Aw, naughty girl.” She clearly felt this was a compliment and stretched happily under his fingers. “That’s your fault, Frank; you forgot to close the door again.”

Frank closed the door very pointedly just to be annoying, and Matt smiled. It was nice sometimes, not to need words.

Frank had gone to parts unknown when Matt woke up the next morning, but he’d left him a message on his phone. _Be back for lunch_, it said when Matthew played it. Oh. So for once he’d be around when Mag – when his _mother_ would be there. Matt had anticipated a late morning and he’d told her lunch was a better idea than their usual Saturday breakfast, and she’d gone with it.

Things felt fragile with Maggie. After that day he'd come to St. Agnes with Frank’s words in his mind, things had been… not strained, but different. He’d wanted to go in and ask what he’d always wanted to know – _Why did you leave? Was it my fault? Did you miss me, did you think of me? of dad? Did you love me? Why did you_ – just _why_. So many whys. But in the end, he’d just come in and said, “Tell me about dad.”

He’d heard her dry hands cross and uncross. “Jack was,” she’d started. “We.” And then she’d gone and made them hot toddies, and he’d helped her with the laundry and talked about Karen’s idea of office pranks, and it was only the time after that she’d told him about how they’d met.

It was a slow process.

And, selfishly, Matt was relieved that it was hard for her, too. Her voice never wavered but sometimes she just stopped speaking, and he knew. It was… comforting. Painful, but comforting. How very Catholic of them, he supposed.

She arrived before Frank came back, took one look at his closet, and got her sewing kit out of her bag.

“For someone who’s handy with a suture needle, you’re pretty bad at stitching your clothes,” she said.

He caught Penny before she dove into the jumble of spools in the kit. “I forget about it.”

“Too busy getting cuts on your face to fix your hems?”

“Something like that.” Frank was back, hanging something in the hallway. It was long and flattish, like… a garment bag? “Hi, Sister.”

“Frank,” she said.

Penny jumped down from Matt’s lap and went to the new thing in the apartment, but Frank didn’t let her come close. “No, you’re not going to get hair all over it.”

“What’s _it_?”

“Nothing.”

“Can I touch it?”

Frank hesitated. “Be careful.”

Matt was definitely intrigued, and he walked to the garment bag. He found the zipper, pulled it down, stuck his hand inside and – oh. “Frank?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that…” He went up to the collar, felt for the braid, took his time over the buttons. “Is that a dress uniform? Your dress blues?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you getting married?” Maggie asked from the couch. Matt choked a little.

“Been there, done that,” Frank said. “Boss at the gun range is, though. Asked if I could be there and wear it.”

“But,” Matt finally managed.

“He said I could bring a plus one, too.”

“But…”

“There’d be fancy food and nice bubbly.”

“And I’m sure Frank cleans up well. Better look for a suit without any holes or fraying sleeves, Matthew; your old ones won’t be good enough.”

“Would dishonor the uniform,” Frank said.

“You’ll have to go clothes shopping,” she went on. “And you, Frank; maybe try that uniform on, see if there’s any adjustments that need to be made. I can do that.”

Matt hated them both. Only Penny was good and nice and sweet.

“Do you really want me to come with you to that wedding?” Matt asked after Maggie was gone and they were cleaning up.

“You do what you want, Red.”

“It’s just… do they know?”

“Know what?”

“You could go with a friend, with Curt.”

“He’ll be there with his girlfriend.”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“I noticed.” Frank put the plate on the dish rack. “That your problem?”

“Not _my_ problem. But maybe…”

“No one cares, Red.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” He squeezed the sponge. “Bob’s a big softie, maybe you can bring one of those boxes of kittens you seem to keep finding to the wedding instead of to the orphanage. They’d find good homes.”

“Once. I did it once.”

“That’s not what your mom said.”

“The other time they were in a bag. A t_rash bag_, Frank. Someone had put them there.”

“Yeah, yeah, you saved them, a real hero. Except there’s that kid who had an asthma attack.”

“I didn’t know he was allergic! And anyway, they’ve all been adopted in the congregation, now.”

Matt had tried to ask the people he knew, the first time he’d found abandoned kittens; but they’d immediately hissed at Jessica and she’d hissed back, so that had been a no. Luke had an off and on thing with Claire and she was allergic, so Matt ruled him out, too. Thankfully _Danny_ had immediately decided cats were the best thing ever to grace his life, and he’d convinced the people around him of the same. So that had been a success. Maggie hadn’t been so sanguine, however.

Frank dried his hands and put them on Matt’s hips. “Wouldn’t mind it if you came.”

“Um.”

“You’re a lawyer, Red. And you got that ass on you.”

Matt could feel his cheeks warm up. “And you’d be wearing your dress blues?”

“With the decorations,” Frank said in his neck.

“Didn’t know you still had that stuff.”

“Curt made me fill in the replacement forms.” Frank’s stubble was catching in his hair, and now more than just Matt’s cheeks was warm. “Didn’t want to do it at first.”

“Why, then?”

“I don’t do tuxes.” His mouth was very close to Matt’s and his lips were chapped, as always.

“Will you let me touch them?”

“Yeah.”

“While you’re wearing them?”

“You better, Red. Didn’t go to all that trouble for you to ignore me.”

Oh. _Oh_. “For me?”

Frank didn’t answer, he just pushed Matt until he was caught between Frank and the back of the couch. They bumped into it and Penny jumped down with an unhappy noise, and Matt almost forgot about her when Frank pulled his shirt up. Almost, but not quite.

“Wait,” he said.

“What for?” Frank was definitely _not_ waiting.

“She’s right here.”

“Who?”

“The cat.”

Matt felt Frank pull away from him and, probably, stare down. “Afraid for her delicate sensibilities?”

“She could see us.”

“She’s blind, remember?”

“Yes, but…” Matt tried not to squirm. He didn’t want to do… that, in front of Penny.

“She _can’t_ _see us_,” Frank said; but he still steered them to the bedroom and slid the door closed after him. “She can’t, but _I_ can. I see you. I’m watching you, Red, all of you. I look at you when you sleep sometimes, too. You got freckles on your back, did you know that?”

Reality around Matt was fuzzy and cottony, he couldn’t sense much apart from Frank’s words in his ear, Frank's weight pinning him down, and just Frank. Frank everywhere. “I… I don’t…”

“I do, Red. I got you.”

Matt believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> So when i started thinking of a blind, ginger cat (because i'm subtle like that), i first pictured [this owl](https://www.boredpanda.com/blind-owl-starry-eyes-zeus-wildlife-learning-center)'s eyes that i remembered reading about.  
Except Zeus is not a cat, so i looked up blind cats like [this one](http://home.bt.com/lifestyle/britains-oldest-rescue-cat-cant-find-a-home-because-she-has-terrifying-eyes-11363992250430) or [Louie](https://metro.co.uk/2019/06/24/louie-the-blind-cat-was-rescued-by-chance-and-now-hes-an-instagram-star-10033014/), a [kitty](http://www.lifewithcatman.com/catman/the-story-of-louie-the-blind-cat/) that's blind from birth, and here's gorgeous [Jasmine](https://www.sortra.com/stunning-blind-cat/)!  
Older pets or pets with disabilities deserve, and can give, just as much love and care as any other pet. Check out the shelters near you if you feel you can adopt one!


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